The Alternate Endings
by TheSilverDagger
Summary: With the Battle of Badon Hill over, the three remaining knights, Arthur and Guinevere separate and go their own paths. The aftermath stories of each are finally revealed here. {COMPLETE}
1. Arthur and Guinevere

**Chapter One: Arthur and Guinevere**

_"The mind and heart always have a battle. The latter always seem to win."_

-Aristotle

After the battle on Badon Hill, after the deaths of Lancelot and Tristan, after a long night of fighting...the three knights, Arthur and Guinevere lived in pain and agony, having to lose their friends. The loss of Lancelot became extremely hard on Arthur, for his best friend, his right-hand man was no longer by his side. He had never before thought of what he would feel if he lost Lancelot before he was ready, but now that his nightmare became reality, he found himself leaning toward Guinevere for support, and she was more than willing to give it. After their marriage and Arthur was dubbed the king, his relationship with Guinevere heightened. His knights: Bors, Gawain and Galahad were set free and they each returned home, each mourning after another, each wondering on what they shall do next, and Arthur suddenly found himself in the realization that he was alone...alone with Guinevere.

But perhaps that was the best thing about this arrangement.

His love for Guinevere had grown over the past years. His wanting her, his lust for her...each heightening each time he looked at her. Her mind, however, seemed to focus itself on other complications, complications that Arthur had not known, complications that Arthur found himself wondering. But his politeness and his nobility kept him from asking such private questions, for he wished to reserve his marriage and keep it for the rest of his life.

Guinevere on the other hand, began to feel an emotional turn of events as she struggled between her heart and her mind. It seemed that her heart and mind were always in an ongoing war with another, the mind always being the victor of various battles, but now...now, things had changed...now...there might be a change in the wind. By now, her mind and her heart had realized that her love for Arthur was nothing more than a brotherly to sisterly love. By now, her mind and her heart had realized that had been lying to her husband, and her mind told her to keep it, to reserve their marriage, while her heart told her it wasn't right to keep Arthur in the dark. By now...Guinevere began to realize that her heart had always belonged to Lancelot, and upon realizing this, Lancelot's death was harder on Guinevere than it was on Arthur. Torn between her body, she kept these feelings of guilt, embarrassment and sadness from Arthur as she continued to live in vain and agony.

As the years passed, Arthur and Guinevere's marriage began to rocket back and forth. Their feelings were uncertain of each other anymore and secrets were kept between them. At most, their supper might have gone well with few words exchanged and nothing else was said for the rest of the day. Arthur's continued suspicion of Guinevere caused a rift between them and he secretly began to distrust her on her words. The torn battle between her mind and heart caused Guinevere to become an unstable and unpredictable woman, also splitting the marriage in two. But finally, after many years of hurt and sadness, she decided that her heart had won and told Arthur her true feelings. As she spotted him resting in a chair in the master bedroom, she summoned up enough courage and took a deep breath, first making sure that she caught his attention and preparing herself to say what she knew needed to be said.

"My love," she said, after she was sure that he was listening to her. She silently cringed at the name she had called him, "I have not been quite honest with you over the past years."

Arthur said nothing, already knowing this. The expression on him was not detectable, but his feelings exploded of boast, hurt and wonder. He set down a book he was reading and turned to face forward at Guinevere, intent on what she was saying, "Then tell me now or forever hold your peace."

At this slow reaction, Guinevere began to chicken out and wonder if her heart was the wrong victor in this situation. After several seconds of recollecting her thoughts, she decided that if she did not say this now, she would never say it again, "My heart and mind have been battling a long war. On several occasions, my mind has been the victor, but on this last battle...the winds changed and now my heart had won," she glanced away, pacing around the room, "Forgive me, my lord, but...I must speak the truth, for if naught I do it now...I shall never say it again."

At this, Arthur was not as surprised as perhaps he should have been. His mind began to clutter with possible things that Guinevere might tell him next and as he sat there, his face beginning to show emotion of sadness, he wondered if this would be the end of his marriage with the woman that he loves. He didn't say anything to her again, for she paused to see his reaction, but he chose not to show it...though slight sadness in his eyes began to peel away the rest of his mask and he looked away, feeling Guinevere's eyes penetrating into him.

She sat down on the bed, seeing the sadness in Arthur's eyes he turned to look away. She had never seen the expression...only when he was talking about the death of his parents, it was rare to see Arthur so broken...worried...scared. She again wondered if perhaps she was doing the wrong thing, but once again her heart spoke out and once again, it had won the battle. She cleared her throat, and said, "I...found my heart leaning towards another. Another that I cannot have. Another that I wish to see once more. Another that I am afraid to admit his name," she paused a moment, wondering if Arthur could understand her hint and know the name of the man who holds her heart.

The clues were, at first, baffling to Arthur. But as he began to understand the words started to register in his mind, he only knew that it had to be one of his knights and from the way she spoke, a dead one. That left, Dagonet, Tristan or Lancelot. Upon realizing this, his heart gave a jump, as if take one more beat before shutting down completely from despair and sorrow. Dagonet said no words to Guinevere, for he was the quiet type, this Arthur knew...he knew that the man she spoke of is not Dagonet. And neither Tristan as well, for what reason, Arthur was not sure. But as he began to think more and more, he found himself thinking of Lancelot...for it was he who captured the Queen's heart. He bent his head down, his back still towards Guinevere, and his eyes slowly filling with salty water, he said nothing for fear of showing his weakness through his voice.

At this reaction, seeing Arthur bend down in sorrow, Guinevere could guess that he knew the name of her love. It was as if she could hear the breaking of his heart and small and short sobs sounded from him and Guinevere made an instinct move to comfort him, only to be pushed away. Her eyes showed of shock...then understanding as she moved away back towards the bed and continued, "I am sorry. But upon the war between my heart and my mind, I realize that I have been lying to you, Arthur. I cannot go on living with guilt, sorrow and uncertainty. I shall speak the truth to you from now on. My heart has always belonged to Lancelot."

"He is dead," Arthur said, his head raised, his eyes wiped and his anger now showing. His voice was sharp and blunt; it seemed to slice the Queen in half as she slightly flinched at the harshness of his voice. Guinevere said nothing; no surprise shown in her eyes or face as she moved to close the door, for two servants had passed the moment he had spoken. Their eyes cast a look of curiosity and worry as they hurried on. Guinevere smiled giving the two girls assurance that they were looking for, then turned back to Arthur, "You love your dead mother, do you not?"

This remark angered Arthur even more, for he did not wish to speak of his dead parents at this moment. He said nothing for a moment, his thoughts seemed to be scattered and an instant headache developed inside him as he held his head, still not facing Guinevere. He could see her point, but to reacted in defense, "That is different."

An artful arch of an eyebrow raised on Guinevere, "Oh? How so? Isn't the love of your mother something that you cherished? My love for Lancelot is something I cherished. Aren't they both dead? Show me what difference that is. Love has no difference at all. The definition of love in my eyes is that you care for someone deeply, you want to ease any pain they feel, you want to help them in any situation. Isn't that what you feel for your mother?" Guinevere knew that her voice was harsh and not understanding, but this time, she put her foot down, she wasn't going to be taken as someone who has a bad heart, for she hadn't. She was a good person who only fell in love, was it so wrong to fall in love?

Arthur said nothing again, it was true and not true, what Guinevere had said. At this time, however, he was in no mood to argue, the pain in his heart hurt too much. The thoughts of his mother sent him to tears again, and he sobbed silently, determined not to show Guinevere his sorrow then to his unwill he sniffed. Guinevere's eyes narrowed the sniff and instantly she realized how truly hurt he was. At this, Guinevere felt the urge to walk over to him again, wrap him in her arms and hold him, hold him as they both cried until their eyes went dry. She moved to him and saw him quickly wipe his tears and she hesitated a moment, as if to ask if she should move any closer and when she received no answer, she wrapped her arms around him, "I'm sorry, love. I am so sorry," tears then began to flow out of her already watered eyes.

And they sat there the rest of the night, both sobbing into the others arms.

**Arthur and Guinevere end.**


	2. Bors and Vanora

**Chapter Two: Bors and Vanora**

_"For some, the best thing is love. For others, the best thing is separation."_

-Mark Twain

As the last battle of Bors ended, his feeling of relief washed over him as he breathed heavily, short and hard. His chest rose and fell over and over again, quickly at first but as he started to catch and control his breathing, it slowed until finally he walked towards Arthur who was already accompanied by Galahad, Gawain and Guinevere. Their faces showed of awe, sadness and disbelief as he approached them, his face shown of curiosity, he looked down at the ground to find Lancelot impaled with an arrow. His first reaction to seeing the bloody Lancelot was shock. He knew that Lancelot was the best fighter of Arthur's knights and if he could be killed then anyone could. Then, as that emotion of shock disappeared, it was replaced with denial, he refused that he'd lost another brother, and he hadn't even known of Tristan at that moment. Instantly, sadness and despair had enveloped him as he returned to Hadrien's Wall after the burial ceremonies of both Lancelot and Tristan.

Vanora was there with all eleven children, happy to see their lover and father okay. Though dirtied by dirt and blood, Bors began to find himself reaching a depression age and Vanora had noticed such things. When she had comforted him, he began to feel as if he'd been reborn, as if he had been revived, and Bors found himself getting over the loss of his three brothers in the end. Shortly after that Vanora and he married and they settled in a nearby town much like the one he had left fifteen years ago.

The final good-byes to Gawain and Galahad had been a moment of relief. A moment of happiness. A moment of sadness, pain and the three knights found themselves realizing that they were more family than they realized. They found themselves giving each other a knowing look as they parted from Arthur and from each other. It was a hard thing to do, say good-bye to the people who you've come to know the best. Saying good-bye to the people who has became a second family, all knights felt this emotion as they parted and went their separate ways. Bors hadn't known then what became of the two, for he knew he should never see them once more.

Arthur, on the other hand was something different. Bors only felt a remorse to his Roman commander, feelings of regret...pain...worry. But as they moved to shake hands...they paused a moment and suddenly grasped each other in an embrace, each closing their eyes, remembering the memories that they will always store of each other. Arthur smiled, it was reassuring and Bors turned fast enough so that Arthur wouldn't notice the single tear that streaked his face as he went to Vanora.

He talked with Vanora, for she seemed to understand his feelings and comforted him, for that he was grateful. As they left Hadrien's Wall, Bors looked back one more time, Arthur still there, his reassuring smile plastered on his face as the Wall sealed them away from each other forever. They decided to take all children and gave them proper names, names that they deserved. They settled in a nearby town and raised the eleven children. Bors became a farmer, something that he laughed at as he looked back on his life. It was a surprise to find that he found such comfort in such a thing, he had never thought that he would find himself doing a job like this before, and yet, it was suiting and soothing to him. Vanora became a housewife, she fed and played with the children, took care of them and her husband night and day. She found life as this hard and sometimes completely unbearable but when she saw her husband walk through the door at nighttime, she found that perhaps this is what fate had in store for her. The family of thirteen found that they were enjoying themselves and led a happy life.

At least, for about ten years.

Things in the marriage started to change as the crops began to wither and die. A drought had occurred, making it extremely difficult to raise and harvest the crops. Due to the lack of such, Bors and his family suddenly found themselves starving, without food or money. The tension of this caused immediate stress between both parents, who started to constantly fight over the smallest things. Bors neglected his duties as a father and Vanora began to wonder if it had all be worth it. The eleven children only seemed to make the matters worse, as their constant complaining and moaning sent both parents in an uproar. After two years of no rain, no water, food or money, two of the youngest children died of starvation and an illness. These deaths only caused even more tension between the lovers as they began to argue over different matters of opinions, they questions another faith, the other's morals and integrity.

After one night of a horrible fight, Vanora found herself sitting next to Bors, her eyes drying from loosing the moist of the tears. Bors was breathing hard, his breath short and quick from yelling so much. The children now saw that the fight was over, and with worried looks, they left the outside of the door and returned to bed. Vanora sighed, she knew that this marriage was not working anymore, "Bors..." her voice trailed...she knew that he could guess what she was to say next, "This marriage is not working anymore."

Bors laughed, it was mocked and insulting, but he said nothing as the room fell into silence again. He collected his thoughts, making sure to pick the right words...but in the end found nothing to say to her. Vanora waited a moment longer, waiting for Bors to speak up in defense, in agreement, in anything, but when nothing was said and the crickets began to sing, she once again sighed and spoke, "What other choice do we have?"

Again, a moment of silence and by now, Vanora was getting irritated at the silence of Bors, "Can't you say something? Do you want a divorce? I cannot know what you want! I am only human!" her voice rose in the midst of saying this and Bors turned, facing her, shaking his head. He didn't want to lose her, it was the truth, he still wished to keep the happy life that he had before with her. Harvesting the crops, playing with the children, helping Vanora with supper, the love-making session with her at nights, "No...that is something that I do not wish. We can move...move to a place that gives us more. We can do that." He nodded, as if assuring that it could be done.

Vanora only sighed, her voice and calmness returned to her, "At first, that is what I thought as well. I thought that maybe all this...tension was because of the harvest...even because of Erdic and Eroc..." they both cringed at the names of the two sons that they lost, "But...we fight about everything now. We fight about supper. We fight about our children, we fight about the crops...our views on everything has changed...we only clash now, Bors."

"You mean to leave me?" he saw the slight twitch in Vanora as he spoke this. Vanora didn't say anything for a moment, for she felt as if he had already knew the answer, and she was not ready to say it. The moment of silence again was interrupted by the sounds of crickets in the dark corners, but Vanora couldn't tell where the dark corners, for to her...it seemed as if the entire room was taken over by darkness. Bors shifted his weight, "I don't want to break up this marriage. The marriage with the woman I love. I—I'm sorry, Vanora, I'm sorry." At this, Vanora was surprised, Bors, who was so proud, so confident, so boasty, apologized to her.

Another moment of silence, though Bors wasn't all bothered by it. He'd rather think at this moment than talk and only say things that he would like to take back. Vanora didn't say anything either, her thoughts turned to what to say next, whether to accept or deny his apology. She tried as she could to remember the days that she was happy, but as she thought, sitting there, feeling lonesome and dark, only the memories that she wished to forget came to her. Her decision was then made.

She turned to Bors, "I cannot. I cannot survive another week with you. I'm sorry Bors, but we cannot." And with that she got up, crossed into the room and seemed to step into the children's room, whisper something that Bors was not able to hear and then walk out. Bors sat in the chair longer that night than he had any other night, his thoughts filled with regret, hope and sadness. He cannot stop Vanora, no matter how hard he tried to convince her, Vanora would go, and he knew that. It would be a waste of time if he tried to talk to her now, he knew that. He listened to the night, her shuffling of feet in various places of the house, the crickets now starting to sing again and the wind rustling the dry and brown grass outside. For a distinct moment, he got himself up, found Vanora in the bed, holding something. Then stuff it in her pocket as she turned to see Bors standing in the doorway. He was about to say something to her, but her face showed of emotion that made Bors stop abruptly. The face of sorrow, regret, the face that made him walk back to the chair without trying to convince his wife to stay.

His thoughts were so preoccupied that he hadn't noticed when he begun to become tired, and slowly, he began to drift asleep.

The next morning, Bors found himself alone...with half of the children still with him. He noticed that Gilly, the child that he liked the most, was left with him.

**Bors and Vanora end.**

**ARTHOR NOTE: **Well? How do you like the first two chapters? I am in the midst of doing the third chapter to so be aware, k? Galahad is coming up next! Please read review, I love reading those!


	3. Galahad

**Chapter Three: Galahad**

_"Everyone thinks that they control their life, only to realize that Fate is what controls them."_

-Abraham Lincoln

As the final moment of Badon Hill ended, Galahad was more relieved than before. He had survived, the battle that he thought he would not survive. As he killed the last Saxon, plunging his sword in the opponents abdomen, he pulled out the sword and stood...looking at it. Blood covered the sword from top to bottom, blood of his, blood of the Saxons. His face was melancholy, a feeling of astonishment wavered over him and he looked down, finally developing a feeling of regret. All the men he had killed, all the families who will go home without a father, a son, a brother...he felt a soreness for them, he felt sympathetic for them...this was the first time he's ever felt for someone he had killed. Perhaps the realization that he was free that gave him such thoughts in his mind. The logic he was thinking, it was uneasy to him, it was...nonfamiliar with him, and that...scared him for a moment.

For now he knew that he would be living with every man's death for the rest of his life now.

This sent him even in more of a depressing time. As he walked towards Arthur and Guinevere, whom were already joined by Gawain, all looking downward, their faces showing of sadness. Guinevere's face was streaked with tears, Arthur's was distant and cold, no emotion shone in his eyes and Gawain...Gawain was looking as if he'd do anything to forget this day. When he approached, he realized at what they were all mourning over. There, beneath and centered laid the dead corpse of one of their own. Their beloved and loyal knight, Lancelot. And a few feet from there was Tristan, both with a placid face upon them, pale and without light. Instantly a feeling of emptiness washed over him and he fell to his knees, his face showing of disbelief and denial. Shaking, trembling, he only felt despair as he looked longingly at the two bodies, the bodies of his brothers, the family he never knew beforehand. He heard the quick footsteps of the last knight to survive, Bors and abruptly stopped in his tracks when he saw the bodies of the two knights...and at the moment, all five of them were thinking the exact same thing.

The following night after that had been truly hard on Galahad, the fact of saying good-bye never occurred to him, for he always thought his life would end in a battle, before he was freed. But as the day had finally come, he realized how hard it was to say good-bye to the people who he felt was the most important people in his life. He had been fighting for fifteen years, fighting for something that was not clear to him, but as he hugged Bors, the thoughts of why began to spring into his mind as clear as crystal water. He finally realized why it was he who survived each battle that he faced, it was for his home. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he still can't grasp what the image of home was like...the feeling of family, the feeling of belonging...the feelings that he wished to hold forever. Perhaps it was that reason, that he longed to refresh his memory. Perhaps...perhaps he had known this all along.

Galahad had always been strong, he always had a strong heart, strong mind, but at each time at night, his emotions took over and he stood silent for several minutes, thinking the day over. Remembering the feel of the blood that splattered on him, some of it managing to get into his mouth. The taste of the blood was hot, and he at that moment always turned his face in disgust, turning it to himself. He could safely say he was the only one who felt guilt for those he killed, even for those why tried to kill him, but he was known to have a gentle heart...Galahad was kind and gentle. The thoughts of this ran through him as his closest friend Gawain stepped forward to him.

To his unliking, Galahad began to feel hot in his face, the tears threatened to leave him as he and Gawain stared at each other for a moment, their faces knowing what the other was thinking and all at once they grasped each other in a hug...and hug that bonded all brotherhood. Galahad then broke apart and turned away, determined not to let Gawain or Bors see his face, a face of remorse, a face of guilt, a face of sadness. He turned his attention to Arthur who only greeted him with a handshake and spoke, "Galahad..." his voice trailed a moment, to be sure he had Galahad's attention then continued, "Knight...brother...friend, you have shown greatness. Go back...go back to where you came from...taste the freedom in the air again, Galahad. Remember what home looked like. Heard like. Smelt like. Tasted like. Remember the thing you have been longing to remember," Arthur said nothing a moment, watching Galahad's expression at his words and turned to leave as Gawain and Bors left the Wall on their own way to their freedom.

For a moment, Galahad stood, taking in everything and restoring it in his mind. The peasants scurrying and talking amongst themselves, the rush of the wind, sending flying dust everywhere and he smiled, for he knew that as long as he lived and there on, he would not forget this single minute. And with that he patted his great brown horse and rode away from the Wall, away from Arthur...away from a cage.

He meant to settle and build a home, a place that he can truly call home. A place that a family presence will ease his pain. Find a wife, have children and forget the past that he desperately wished he could do. The visions of his killing still flooded his mind frequently but as years passed, they began to fade from his sight and to his delight, he began to slowly feel as if he had really moved on this time. But as years passed, his feeling of loneliness began to wash over him, for he never found a wife and his constant traveling made him involved with fights or battles...battles that he needed to forget. The fighting, killing was the only reason to why he left the Wall, behind there were memories of too much and he left, hoping to forget what had happened. But his life as a rogue still continued and he could not find a place to settle, a place to live the life he has always wanted too.

His desperateness caused him even more despair, for he needed to settle down, but each time he tried, each time he felt as if this time it was real, something had always snatched the opportunity from him and he hated that. He hated being weak and for some reason he felt as if this was all his fault, his inability to have a family, have the things that he wanted...needed to have. The dreams of his battles, those before freedom and those after, began to become more frequent as his life began to depress, the battles were more enhanced. He could feel the blood when it spattered on him, taste it, smell it. He could touch the despair, the hatred, the sadness in a killed man's family. Emotions that were so intense, so vibrated that he began to feel nauseous.

Upon a dream one night, Galahad was surprised to see his mind free of battles for once. Instead of a painted woad before him, he felt a man of light approach him. At first, Galahad was blinded by the radiant light that the man had emitting from him, but as his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he studied the man...only to find that it was God. God smiled at Galahad, whose face was even more surprised as he realized who this man was, he raised a hand, signaling for God to stop and he did so, "Why do you come in dreams?" he asked, now shielding his eyes from the brightness.

God smiled, his form of a man muscular and his skin light, flawless, "I only come to those who are in need."

"Why must you say that I am in need. I am free now, I have nothing more."

"There is one thing that you cannot possess, one thing that you cannot get a hold of. The one thing you have desperately been searching for."

"I have no desire for anything more than what I have," Galahad frowned, it was a lie, both he and God knew that well.

"Home."

Galahad's eye's widened at God's words. Only a simple word and already Galahad began to feel sorrow, his tears forming and he forced them back, he turned away from God, hoping the holy man would not see his tears. At this, the man chuckled, "Do not be afraid to shed the tears of sorrow, Galahad. It's a natural state to be sad...as well as angry...happy. You must chose which you wish to be."

Galahad said nothing as the Man began to walk toward him, the light pressing even more into his eyes as he shielded again...but instantly the light vansihed and he was able to see a man, dressed in white face him, a warm smile still on his face. God stood in front him, radiant sky colored eyes, a tall and lean body, a face of knowing, "Home, Galahad. It's what you've been searching for," it was a statement, not a question, "And yet, you cannot find it. Do you know why?"

Galahad shook his head, his mouth had lost the language of words. He was speechless, could this really be a dream? God smiled again, "It's because your soul is not looking for a place to call home. Your soul searches for adventure...for the feeling of a rush when you run into a fight."

"I wish for a home, a place where I can forget what I've done. All the sins I've committed."

"You have committed none. You have suffered long enough to repay your sins, your soul only wants what you've been wanting all along. You are in no need of a home, Galahad, for your state of mind would not change if you had. All along you were searching for adventure, all along your soul was happy, all along you've been thankful. You are not meant to forget those sins that you possess in your mind. The memories a person has, good and bad, are the things that make up that person. The memory, the regrets, the hatred, the guilt that you have, is what makes you...you. You are meant to be who you are now, Galahad and who you are now is not meant to settle down. Who you are now...is meant to roam free in the world and discover the true meaning of 'freedom'."

Galahad's face showed of surprise again. The words of God pierced him through the heart. His mind told him to reject the offer that the man put into his mind, he told himself that he shouldn't listen to that man. So what if he is God? He isn't Galahad's God, he is a nobody to him. What if he isn't really God? What if...what if he was right? A voice muttered to him in the back of his head the stood out more than the rest that was speaking. He silently cursed himself, his face showing of anger and fustration, then turned back to the man, "Why? Why must I live? Why must I live to see the faces of all I killed in my dreams? Why do they haunt me? Why do I only think of them? Why me?" he shouted, talking more to himself than to the man who was speaking to him.

The man only smiled, the light again luminating him, "I understand your pain, Galahad, I understand why you suffer. But as said before, memories of the bad always help a person remember what's good and what's bad, it makes a person who they are. If you only lived with good memories, would you be who you are now? Are you not happy with who you are now?"

At this, Galahad paused. In his mind he felt as if he was the worst person alive, but when he thought back on it, he realized that everything he has done now has led up to this moment. Everything that was noble wasn't for himself, but for other people who needed their help, for people who can't fend for themselves, for people who deserved such protection. Everything that was sinful was the right thing to do, the people who didn't deserve death now found a happy place. Can he believe that? Can he believe that the people he killed are silently thanking him? Can he believe that everything, _everything_ he has done been for someone other than himself? The thoughts of this occurred to him and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that all this time, he wasn't looking for home. All this time, he wasn't looking for a place to forget his woes. All this time, he wasn't looking for hope and forgiveness. All this time, he was looking for anything to make him feel secure in the world. The man smiled as the knight thoughts unraveled, he then cast his hand out and spoke, "Be at peace, Galahad, for you deserve such."

And with that Galahad woke with a jolt. It took a moment before Galahad felt more refreshed and awake than he ever had before.

**Galahad end.**

**Author Note:** Do realize that if I have offended anyone with the use of God in this chapter, I deeply apologize for doing so. I believed that having Galahad talk to 'God' might make things a little more interesting, and I am sorry if you take your religion seriously and are offended by this chapter, but do realize that I mean no harm when I use him in this chapter. Thanks.

One more chapter to go (Gawain)! New fanfics then! YAY! Please read review! Tell me what you think, k?


	4. Gawain

**Chapter Four: Gawain**

_"Sometimes you think you need something, when all you need is love."_

-Stephan King

Gawain was the first to arrive to find Arthur and Guinevere hovering over Lancelot's body. A few inches away from Lancelot's body lay Tristan's covered in nothing but blood. Gawain suddenly felt he was sick to his stomach, and immediately he doubled over and vomited, watching in disbelief at the bodies as the stink and oozing liquid slowly sank into the blood soiled land. He watched for a moment, seeing the scene that unfolded in front of him. Arthur, scolding his god, tears welling up in his eyes. Guinevere, her face showing of disbelief and sorrow as she stared longingly at Lancelot's body. Dead and injured Saxons, cries of pain and sorrow, Woads despairing over their lost ones, Saxons wandering, waiting to be killed. It was then that Gawain realized that tears began to form in his eyes as well and slowly leave a trail as they sank down his cheek and face. Galahad and Bors came their ways here, as if wandering and coming here on mistake. Galahad instantly turned his head when he saw the bodies, his eyes flashing of pain when he first saw them. Bors said nothing, but only stared at them...thinking his own thoughts. Arthur, Guinevere, Bors, Galahad and he knew the same thing at that moment in time. This battle, this goddamned battle, was something that neither of them will ever forget.

The night after that, the night that he was finally free, was hard for Gawain, even though he was sure that it was hard on all five of them. He hadn't know Guinevere that well, but he felt himself being torn away from her as they spoke no words to each other, all they had was to say goodbye by a hug. Arthur on the other hand, had something to say to him, "Be in peace, Gawain. You are free now, you must do what you can to make up for those fifteen years that you've spend on this wretched island." And with that, they hugged, watching each other...as if a father giving a son away, though Arthur was no father, he was like an older brother to Gawain, and this thought was comforting to him as he moved to Bors. Tears were welling up in Bors's eyes and Gawain watched him, just once before he had seen Bors cry, it was at the death of Dagonet, his best friend. They said nothing to each other, only sorrowful looks and a tint of knowing in each of their eyes as they said good-bye with no words. And then Gawain turned to Galahad.

Instantly, the tears began to well up again. Of all the knights, dead or alive, Galahad had been the one that he seemed to connect to. Of all the knights, dead or alive, Galahad had been the one that became his best friend. He didn't understand why this was, but Gawain had always known that he could count on Galahad, he could always see Galahad as a best friend, rather than a friend. They spoke no words for a moment, each of their minds going through the memories that they always held until finally Gawain nodded at him, a sign of satisfaction. And for the first time that day, Gawain actually smiled. Galahad's eyes began to slightly brightened as he nodded back, a smile also on his face, and stuck out his hand of which Gawain gladly took.

And with that, they all went their separate ways.

When Gawain had left Hadrien's Wall, he had a moment of panic, for he never actually knew what he was to do when he was finally free. Going home had always been his answer when he was asked, but now...now he wasn't so sure. He did wish to see home, no doubt, but something in his mind, a second voice, told him to stop. But...then what? He sighed and forced himself to return home, the place that he can vaguely remember.

As he rode his horse towards the Samartia countryside, his thoughts were so preoccupied of everything that he did not notice that within five days he reached his destined place...home. This sudden rush of astonishment washed over him as he saw the small village of which he was taken from. Jumping from his horse he was enveloped with the home that he had forgotten over the fifteen years. The green grass, miles of miles of them. The cold air that countered with the sun's warm rays. The smell of grass and home-cooking, this is tasting freedom.

When he entered the village, the people who were young then grew older and vaguely remember him. They would come from their huts and watch in awe as Gawain made his way to his house, hoping that her parents still lived there. The older people smiled at the sight of him, happy to have him back again and the younger ones, the ones that do not remember him were watching in curiosity at the elders as they stared at Gawain. It has been a long time since he had entered this place, a long time since he was finally able to taste freedom and standing here now, in his rightful village, he felt that at last, the one thing that he was waiting for had finally come to him. The freedom of home.

The entire day was spent celebrating his arrival. His mother was still alive, but she told her son that his father was passed since Gawain had been in Rome. Gawain's younger sisters, Enya and Ilde, greeted with a tackle meant to be a hug and the elders or middle-aged people who remember Gawain, visited the hut often just to say hello or thank the god that their knight has returned to them. But in Gawain's mind, he began to think of other things than home. His soul was still searching for the adventure that he experienced as a knight. Still young, he was, and not old enough to settle down and forget about being who he was. He felt sorry for his family, his friends, the people who came to see him, for tomorrow morning, his mother and sisters will find a note on the kitchen table saying he has left and signed by Gawain. The happiness his mother's face showed was priceless, but he couldn't look at her as she proudly walked around the hut, gratefully thanking those who offered their blessings to the family. He sighed as the supper was finished and the twins went to take care of the dishes. Now would be the best time to say his plans, but he could not face his mother who smiled proudly at him when he flashed a look at her. So, instead, he smiled at her, his smile fake, and walked outside, in need of more fresh air.

He walked beside the huts, not really concerned about the contents inside each, for his thoughts were preoccupied by his emotions. He did not wish to leave his family once more, especially since he had just arrived, but he felt as if he was half-dead in this place. His soul was not meant to settle down, and he understood that. He sighed again, out of frustration, anger, disbelief, it was hard...leading a life such as his.

A sound to his right startled him and he snapped his head to see someone emerging from the shadows. As the figure became clearer to him, he saw a woman, perhaps the same age or younger walk towards him meaningfully as her charming smile flashed at him. She was medium height, thin with flawless facial skin. Her eyes were a deep blue, the kind that would suck you in and her hair was a light blonde color. Gawain had known he had seen her before, but he could not place her name on her face. She stopped in front of him, waiting for him to say something, but when nothing came to him mind, she cocked her head, "Do you not remember, Gawain?" and he shook his head, she gave a laugh, somehow it was comforting to him, "You mean to tell me you forgot your old childhood friend?"

At this, Gawain studied her...there was one childhood friend that he always kept close. Female she was, but her eyes were a light blue and her hair was a light brown, his eyebrows furrowed at these thoughts, he might as well take a shot anyway, "Isolde?"

She smiled as she took another step toward him, she nodded confirming his belief, "So you do remember."

"But...you look nothing like the old Isolde."

"I changed, Gawain. I can see that you have as well."

At this, Gawain said nothing, casting his eyes to the ground. It was true, he had changed since he was taken at the ripe age of ten. He changed into a man. He looked back at Isolde, who stepped closer. The light of a hut luminated her and he could see the resemblance of the old girl he had known fifteen years ago to the woman that was before him now. Her features were sharp and long, and in the light, it looked as if she was a goddess herself and Gawain's eyes felt like they were glued to her, for he could not look away. "Isolde..." he said, his voice astounded, "It really is you!" He took a step toward her and suddenly rushed her into a hug. She squealed in delight and accepted his hug as they stay embraced. Isolde had been one of his best friends, the only person that he felt he can really talk to. One of the few people that he was willing to die for. She nodded against his shoulder as he let go, "My god. You've grown."

At this, she giggled, "I suppose I have. And yet...you have grown as well. Into a man, I could say."

They both laughed at her remark, Isolde was like that. She always put a smile on anyone that was around her. But when the silence overtook them, Gawain's thoughts again were overrun by his soul, and his face showed of pain and frustration. It was Isolde who had noticed this, "Gawain? Why is there such a face on you?"

Gawain turned to her, sighing again, "I do not know. I have just arrived here today...but already my soul is wanting for more. More adventure. More thrill. I cannot leave my mother and the twins. But...I feel as if I am dead here."

"Dead? Why you look as much alive as a hopping toad," Isolde answered, her remark was not meant to be funny, for she was serious now as she scrutinized Gawain. "You must do what you wish. I cannot stop you and I can assure you that your mother would understand. She is that woman who understands anything."

Gawain nodded, it was true. His mother was an easy-going type who only sobbed rather than fight against anyone. He knew that he would receive no resistance if he told his mother that he was leaving. He sighed again...it seemed as if he was sighing all the time nowadays. "Still...I can't leave. I haven't seen my mother, you or my sisters for fifteen years. I cannot leave..."

"Your soul calls to you, Gawain. I can tell you now, you cannot ignore it, for it will eat you alive if you attempt at doing so."

Gawain nodded again. He turned to Isolde and said, "You look beautiful, more so than the last time I saw you."

She giggled...then stopped. She looked up and their eyes locked, "Gawain..." her voice trailed to be sure that she had his attention. A muffled response came from him and she continued, "Do you remember? Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left with that roman pig?"

Gawain stopped. His face instantly came over with pain, of course he had remembered. Perhaps it was a curse or a blessing, but Gawain had always been gifted with wonderful memory storage. He said nothing to her question as she sighed and continued, "In all truth, Gawain, I do not wish to see your back as you ride away. I have not seen you in fifteen years, and now...finally I can lay my eyes on you once more, it's like I've been brought back to life. And now...now you tell me that you are in need of leaving. That you feel half-dead here? That you must go adventuring?" she cast her eyes down, "Tell me, do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left?"

"I said, 'I will marry you when I get back!'" he answered her and she nodded, "Do you still hold that promise?"

Gawain paused. Now...it was beginning to get clear for some reason. Before he had thought that his soul was restless, before he had thought that he was in need of excitement in his life. Before he had thought he could not settle down at home, before he had thought he was half-dead. But he was wrong. All he needed was someone, someone to be there, someone to help him, someone to love him.

"I love you," Isolde said, as if reading his mind and coming in on cue. He looked back at her...his face still showed of pain and finally...for the first time in many weeks, he smiled.

"I love you to," he said to her as he swooped her in his arms and interlocked his mouth with hers.

**Gawain end.**

**Author note:** FINISHED! YAY! I hope you liked the stories! goes to write more fanfics


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